Hunted
by Punky Misfit
Summary: A serial killer after Booth's life forces him to abandon his friends for their safety. Only Brennan's not willing to let him go so easily.
1. Chapter 1

"I remembered black skies  
The lightning all around me  
I remembered each flash as time began to blur  
Like a startling sign that fate had finally found me  
And your voice was all I heard  
That I get what I deserve"

"New Divide" Linkin Park

* * *

FBI Agent Seeley Booth bounced his leg impatiently as he sat forward in the office chair he was currently seated in. For the fifth time he adjusted his tie. He hated this. He hated waiting for anyone or anything. Maybe on the outside he looked like a picture of serenity. But inside he was nervous.

His bosses' boss, A.D. Hacker had called him out of the field for a meeting. Booth and his partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan, had just arrived at remains that had been discovered at the bottom of a well. For the FBI Booth investigated murders, usually involving bodies so far decomposed that all that remained were bones. That was where Brennan came in. She was a forensic anthropologist who conducted her own lab in the prestigious Jeffersonian museum. Her skills along with his investigative intuition made them quite the team.

At the scene Booth had just stopped the car when the call from Hacker had come. He'd had no choice but to drop Brennan off (after she arranged for someone to bring her back, of course) and travel back to the bureau. He'd rushed back to Hacker's office where he'd been sitting in the waiting room ever since. Once in a while his receptionist would smile at him sympathetically from around her computer. He had no idea what to make of those glances. Was he in trouble? How? Hacker loved him.

Then again Hacker had never called Booth to his office. He always dropped into Booth's whenever he had news, or wanted to chat. This turn of events could spell trouble. But Booth had behaved.

Well, there was that man dressed like a clown who cut him off in traffic…

The phone rang. The receptionist answered in a soft voice. After a "yes, sir," she hung up. "Agent Booth, the Assistant Director will see you now."

Booth stood up too fast. He tried to regain his composure as he crossed the threshold. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Hacker sat behind his desk. His expression was that of concern. "Yes. Please, sit down, Booth."

Booth lowered himself into yet another chair, this desk chair being uncomfortable unlike the comfy one back out in the waiting room. "Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong? Because if this is about the clown, I let him off with a warning. And I didn't dent his bumper. He did that on his own when he kicked it."

"What? What clown?"

Booth decided it was better to keep his mouth shut until the meeting was over. "Nothing, sir."

"Booth, my superiors asked me to talk to you. A note was mailed here to the FBI regarding you."

"Me?"

Hacker withdrew a note from one of the drawers on his desk. It was spread out neatly in a plastic evidence bag to protect it from damage. He slid it across the desk towards Booth. Gently Booth picked it up to check it out for himself. In a black thin tipped permanent marker a message had been written. It looked as though the person was heavy handed, judging by the amount of smearing of the ink. Booth scanned the letter over. It's contents threatened him. Specifically, his life. "I know who this is," he murmured out loud.

"So do we. Responsibility was claimed."

"Vick," the two said in unison.

For nearly five years Booth had been chasing after a serial killer who brutally murdered men. Law enforcement officers and government personnel, to be exact. He'd killed FBI, police, CIA, and others. He'd even killed a man who worked for the IRS.

Booth, who had been assigned as the agent in charge of the case, had never been able to make much headway. The problem was, Jason Vick was _smart. _A damn near genius. He seemed to know every way to keep himself from getting caught.

Booth read the paper one more time before handing it back to Hacker. "I'm not worried," he said confidently.

"Maybe not, but we are."

"I'm an Army trained sniper."

"We're not taking any chances after the death of Timmins."

Booth lowered his gaze. Timmins had been an agent for the bureau for nearly thirty years. A few months ago he'd been murdered outside his home in cold blood. He'd been gunned down from the back, and his wrist was cut diagonally.

Vick without fail always left a mark on his victim's wrist. It was his calling card, claiming responsibility for his kills.

"We've pulled you off the case you're on," Hacker continued.

"I can work," Booth protested. "I'm not afraid of this guy."

"Booth," Hacker lowered his voice. His tone was understanding, but firm. "The bureau wants you to go into hiding. When I say they're not taking chances, they mean it. The last thing they want is the death of another agent."

Booth sat back, stunned. "I'll drop the case," he mumbled. "But I'm not going into hiding."

"Can you at least think about it?"

"Who's going to catch this guy if I'm out of the picture?" Booth shot back. His mind was slowly coming back to grips.

"We have another agent lined up to take over."

Booth grit his teeth. All this because a psychopath was after him. "I'll think about it." He unwillingly agreed. Being defiant, he ended the conversation then and there. Without another word he showed himself out. Hacker didn't try to stop him.

Back down in his own office he stalked inside, shutting the door behind him. Sighing resignedly he collapsed down into his office chair. Straight ahead of him he glared at the wall. This situation was upsetting him far beyond what he was showing. How could he not work? He lived to work. There was nothing like bringing someone to justice. Especially with Brennan by his side.

Booth spun in his office chair. Behind him on his filing cabinet sat a group of pictures. His eyes zeroed straight in on the one of his son, Parker. While staring at it something from the Vick case came back to him. Before Agent Timmins had been murdered, Vick had been terrorizing his family. In fact, the more Booth thought about it, the killer had threatened or tried to kill relatives or friends of any of his targets. His heart sped up in alarm. He sprung to his feet.

Out of his filing cabinet he fished out the file on Vick. Then he hurriedly left his office. He traced a path through the building he knew well by now. A quick elevator trip took him to the floor he needed to be on. Down several halls he wound until he reached the door of Dr. Lance Sweets' office.

Sweets was a brilliant young psychologist whom Brennan and Booth had come into contact with when they'd been ordered to attend counseling. At first Booth had blown him off. What could this kid possibly know? But over time he'd come to trust him, and even seek his expertise. The young man was great at providing profiles on murderers. Hence why he was there.

Without knocking Booth barged inside. "Hey, you busy?"

Sweets turned around from where he was sitting typing on his computer. "Actually, I-"

"Good." Booth cut him off. He handed him his file. Deep down he knew the truth. He saw the patterns. The signs. But he still gave Vick's file to Sweets on the slim hope that he was wrong. "Can you come up with a profile for me? The sooner the better?"

Sweets flipped through the pages. "Agents already have."

"I know. But I want _you _to look it over."

Sweets smiled, pleased. "I'll get right on it."

"Thanks. Call me the minute you got something." Booth turned to leave.

"Hey," Sweets called after him. "What is this? What's it about?"

Until Booth had all his facts, his confirmation that those he loved were in danger, he didn't want to speak of it. "Just something I need done." He left it at that, leaving before Sweets could push further. He was like a human lie detector. Booth didn't need anyone prying.

He left the bureau all together and went out to his car. Safe inside the comforting interior he sat, unmoving. His life was in jeopardy. What was there to do?


	2. Chapter 2

"There's no way to turn this thing around

It's all here in this letter that you've found

So memorize it line for line

I won't be there to say goodbye"

"The letter" - Hoobastank

* * *

The bar was already full that night by the time Booth walked in the door. In the corner the "squints" had already gathered. He was late, and not fashionably so. He'd spent nearly an hour deliberating over whether or not he should come. If Vick was after him then he was a target. And by association so were his friends.

Before heading over he stopped by the bartender and got a beer. He didn't have much intention of drinking it. From now on he needed to remain on high alert. But he had to do so without giving anything away. No one was to know about Booth's problem if he could help it. The less they knew the better off they were.

"Hey, Booth," Angela was the first to notice his presence.

He answered the numerous greetings he received. Next to Brennan he took a seat, setting his already perspiring bottle on top of the table.

Brennan didn't waste time getting down to business. "Mm," she took a swig of her drink and put it down roughly. "Where'd you go today? Hacker called me and said we're off the case."

"Yeah," he muttered darkly.

"Did you do something wrong?"

He recoiled. "What makes you think I did something wrong?"

Brennan was oblivious to him feeling insulted. "You've never been pulled off a case before."

A loud noise behind them caused Booth's head to snap around. There was no missing the sudden tightness of his muscles. His hand went immediately to his hip. Booth was poised, tensed and ready for trouble.

Luckily the din was just the sound of a drunk staggering across the floor. He'd tripped into the bar top and knocked over several glasses and bottles. They'd crashed onto the floor in a messy pile of shattered glass.

Still, Booth didn't quite relax.

"Booth?" Brennan pulled his attention back.

"Look, Bones, I don't know." Something in the air felt funny to him. He'd made it through life by being suspicious. Trusting his instincts. Something told him he needed to leave for the protection of his friends. Now. "I'm not feeling real great," he stood while mumbling. "I'm going to go."

"But you just got here. Now I've upset you." She said sadly.

He forced himself to smile. "No, you didn't, Bones. I'll see you tomorrow." He hated lying to her. But there was no guarantee he _would_ see her tomorrow. Or ever again, with the way things were shaping up to be.

He didn't utter a word to anyone else as he abandoned his drink and went back outside into the dark night. As he walked his still kept his hand on his hip, ready to retrieve his weapon at a moment's notice. Across the street he headed for his car. A female voice called after him. "Booth?"

He froze. Brennan had followed him. What did he do now? Hadn't he made it clear back inside the bar? Usually Brennan was socially inept. Awkward. When it came to body language she was clueless. Guess over the years as they'd become close friends as well as partners she'd learned a bit about his. Gradually he turned around to face her.

"Where are you going?" She stopped just in front of him.

"I told you, home. It's been a long day."

"I didn't mean to upset you," she insisted weakly.

"Bones," he exhaled. Guiltily he allowed his eyes to meet hers. What could he tell her? "You didn't. It's okay."

"Then why are you leaving?" She wasn't willing to let go so easily. "Come back inside."

"I have to go." He unlocked the doors on his car to illustrate his point.

"Booth," she took a hold of his hand, shocking him, as he was turning away. "This all started after Hacker ended our case. Something else obviously happened. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just," he faced her. Tenderly he braced her arms. "I want to go home and lay down. Watch the game. I don't feel like company tonight."

"But you were fine-"

Behind her two arguing men spilled out into the street from the bar. Booth straightened, closing what was already little space between them. His arms snaked around her waist, holding her close when she tried to take a step back. Their faces were mere inches apart. She looked up into his eyes to find him looking past her. Once he asserted the situation was safe he was quick to let her go.

"Booth, what-"

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said breathlessly and got into his car without another word. His hands were shaking as he put the key into the ignition. Being around Brennan was sometimes a full time job in itself. Secretly he'd been pining away for her for quite some time. Being in a close proximity such as that made things all that much more difficult. He could still smell her perfume on his clothes. Out he pulled his car into traffic.

Brennan stood alone on the sidewalk. Something was wrong with him. It wasn't too often she could tell. But his strange behavior was troublesome. The look in his eyes when he'd had her against his body had been fright. It was something she hardly ever saw in him. Something had triggered the response, and it seemed unlikely he'd be alarmed by two drunks.

She waited until his car was out of sight. Then she went back inside the bar, losing herself in her worry.

***

All night Booth was plagued with nightmares. Vick had him held captive, forcing him to watch while he tortured Brennan, and eventually took her life. He came to furiously, waking himself with his own cry. He sat upright so fast he became dizzy. His heart pounded to a beat of a fast tempo. It felt ready to drum right out of his body.

Breathlessly he looked over at his bedside clock. It was a bit past four in the morning. If his dreams were any indication of what was ahead then he didn't want to fall back asleep. But it was too early to start his day. With Vick on the loose he had to remain as sharp as possible. Back in the Army he'd been trained to stay awake for days. However that was long ago. He doubted he'd still be able.

Breathing deeply, he laid back down. He tried to slow his heart beat. Obviously his mind was trying to tell him what his heart already knew. For his friends. For Brennan. For Parker. He had to leave.

Somehow he'd drifted off again when his phone rang not more than an hour and a half later. He answered it feeling less than rested. "Booth."

"Hey, sorry I woke you," Sweets began tentatively. "But you said to call as soon as I had a profile on Vick, and I got one."

"Is he a threat to his victim's families?" Was all Booth uttered in response. That was all he really wanted to know. Exhaustion lowered his defensive walls.

"Yeah. He's a pretty twisted dude. He tries to get at these officers by going through their families and friends."

Booth squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Why had he let himself hope for anything different? "Okay. Thanks, Sweets."

Sweets sounded confused. "Don't you want to hear the rest?"

"I'll get it from you later." Only he wouldn't, because Booth wouldn't be showing up to work. He wouldn't be seeing any of his friends for some time.

Before Sweets could say anything else Booth hung up. He rolled onto his back, his gaze falling on the ceiling. There was no choice. Leaving was his only option. Over and over again he just needed to keep telling himself that.

All while he packed and prepared to leave he kept his mind preoccupied. Most of his friends would accept whatever pliable excuse he'd come up with. All except for one. Brennan. And if he knew his Bones like he was sure he did, she wouldn't let him off so easily. She'd follow him, risking both their lives in the process. What could he do to keep that from happening?

The answer was simple. But the thought of it near killed him. He had to hurt her. Startle her. Get her to hate him so much that the thought of going after him would never strike her. When, or if, he returned, he'd have to button down the hatches and hoped he'd survived the storm.

Before leaving his apartment he forced himself to do the deed. At his kitchen table he sat down with a pen and paper. Notes were so informal. But it was better than attempting to do it in person. That was a feat he didn't have enough strength to do.

But what was he going to do? What could he say that would send her running to Guatemala, and not chasing after him? The inspiration that finally hit him nearly knocked him out of his chair. He stared down at the lined paper, daring himself. If he wrote the words that were playing out through his mind then it would change everything between them forever. Getting her back when he returned would be difficult, if at all achievable. If, he reminded himself, he did survive. As far as Vick went Booth was doing little to cover his tracks. He _wanted _to lead him away.

In the end he abandoned caution. Recklessly he jotted down the way he felt about her. The feelings he'd kept buried deep within his heart for so long. Once he was finished he hurriedly stuffed the letter into an envelope before he changed his mind. Before heading to the airport he'd drop by the Jeffersonian and leave it in her office.

Booth stuffed the letter in his back pocket. Up over his shoulder he carted a large duffel bag full of clothes and basic necessities. Before leaving he took one last good look at his apartment. Then he turned off the light and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Spoilers for "The End In The Beginning."

* * *

"Here I go so dishonestly

And leave a note, for you my only one

And I know you can see right through me

So let me go"

- "My Only One" Yellowcard

* * *

_Bones,_

_I wish there was an easier way to do this. I wish I didn't have to do it at all. But I can't go on pretending. I can't keep going on living this way. Having to act like I don't feel the way I do, because you can't admit the truth about us to yourself. I've waited. And I just can't do it anymore._

_I love you. I loved you for so long, long before I even knew it. My dream - the coma one, it made me realize a lot of things. A lot of feelings I had for you. I never said anything. I never did anything because I was afraid of what it would do to us. And maybe I thought you'd come to realize what we had. But it's obvious you're not. You never will._

_I turned in my resignation to the FBI. I'm starting over. Starting fresh. Starting somewhere away from you where we can both be happy._

_I'm sorry it had to be this way. I'm just, I'm sorry, Bones._

_-Booth_

Brennan reclined in her office chair. She stared dully ahead at the letter from Booth she'd had propped up on her desk for a few days now. She'd read it so much she'd had it memorized. No matter how many times she read it, it still didn't make any sense to her. Would it ever, really?

Two days ago she'd come into the office like any other morning. Nothing had felt out of place. There was no sign as to what was ahead. She'd found Booth's letter sitting up on her keyboard in an envelope. After reading it she first tried his cell phone. No answer. Next she'd dialed the bureau, specifically, Hacker. He hadn't answered his phone or returned her calls. She couldn't even get a hold of him on any of the private numbers she knew for him.

Booth was gone, and it was as though Hacker had vanished into thin air. Something was going on. Hacker had been the catalyst of it all. Brennan was one step away from going to the bureau herself.

_I love you. I've loved you for so long, long before I knew it._

Brennan hadn't been able to get any work done. For someone who prided herself on the ability to compartmentalize she found herself at a loss. Booth had alienated something sacred between them. He'd crossed that line, and then taken off like a coward.

God, how she missed him.

_My dream - the coma one, it made me realize a lot of things._

Brennan was partially responsible for that. Booth had suddenly required surgery to remove a tumor from his brain. As he was waking from the anesthesia he'd suffered a severe reaction. He was left in a coma fighting for his life, and nearly succumbing.

Brennan had stayed by his side religiously. She'd written a fictional novel about the two of them living a completely different life. As she'd wrote she'd spoken her thoughts to him out loud, invading his dreams. When at last he'd woken, disoriented, he'd been convinced everything from his dream had been real.

It was fair enough to say things had changed between them after that. Brennan couldn't quite look at Booth the same way. Something had awakened in her. Often she found herself thinking about one particular scene she'd written. She could recall the way he'd held her in his arms as they were making love as though it were real. The fever, the rush, would find her unexpectedly.

And sometimes she'd catch him seeming to stare at her in a different way. If she met his eyes he'd quickly look away, sometimes even reddening, a bit. She knew what he'd been thinking. It was a fragile line they hadn't dared to step across.

Until now.

She felt violated. She felt abandoned.

"Sweetie?"

Brennan looked up over her desk to find Angela standing before her. "The remains from that mudslide in Chile have arrived."

For the first time in her life Brennan had to pretend she was interested.

Angela frowned. "Sweetie, I know this is hard-"

"What's hard about it?" Brennan laughed. She got up too fast. "People drift in and out of lives all the time. It's part of the human experience."

Angela warily approached her. "They don't usually confess their love first."

"He doesn't love me, Angela."

"That letter begs to differ."

"He wouldn't-" _do this. _"He can't-" _just run away from me._

Angela didn't hesitate to embrace her friend.

"Why did he-?" Brennan exhaled. "Why now?"

"I don't know. But I assure you, Booth loves you. He's just," Angela shook her head. "I don't know what he's doing. Look, those remains out there aren't going anywhere. Take your time. Come deal with them when you're ready."

Brennan slid back down into her chair. "Thanks, Ange."

Time passed as she sat and mulled through her thoughts. Should she go hunting for answers at the bureau? Did she try to find him at his apartment? Both were options she hadn't yet explored. And yet the option that seemed the most involved was the one she chose.

Booth loved his son. He wouldn't just leave Parker behind. Brennan didn't have a number for Booth's ex, Rebecca. But she'd been with him a few times when Booth had had to pick Parker up from school. She knew what school he went to. She knew was time dismissal was. It was a chance, and she was taking it.

***

Three thirty rolled around and Brennan found herself in the parking lot outside Parker's school feeling self conscious. All around her elementary school students bustled about on their way to their parents' cars and loaded school buses. Brennan searched the crowd for Booth's precocious son. All around she felt foolish. What was she doing here? It was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Surprisingly, Parker found Brennan. The boy snuck up besides her. "Bones?" He asked.

Brennan turned her attention away from the school. "Parker? Hi."

He looked ecstatic. "Is my dad here?"

"He's not, I mean-"

"Parker!" Rebecca called. She jogged up besides the two of them. "Dr. Brennan," she greeted in surprise.

"I'm sorry to just show up like this," she apologized. "I just, I was wondering if you've heard from Booth?"

"Dad said he was going away for a while," Parker said eagerly. "He was going on a trip."

"A trip?"

"He wouldn't tell me, either," Rebecca shrugged. "He just said he was going away and he'd be in touch."

Brennan didn't like the information she was getting. "Thanks." She turned away.

"Hey," Rebecca called after her. "Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"I don't know." Brennan climbed behind the wheel of her car. That was it. Booth's erratic behavior had sparked a sense of urgent worry. Next stop was his apartment. Brennan was determined to get down to the bottom of her partner's problem.


	4. Chapter 4

"Neutrality means that you don't really care

Cause the struggle goes on even when you're not there

Blind and unaware"

- "Collapse" Rise Against

* * *

Booth stepped out from the local convenience store with a back pack full of food. He crunched across the soft packed snow to where he'd parked his snowmobile. Slinging the bag over both his shoulders, he climbed aboard. With a mighty roar the vehicle started up underneath him. Despite everything he couldn't help but to smile. He could never get sick of that sound.

It'd been three days since he'd left home. He'd traded the warm Washington D.C. weather for the cold northern winds of Alaska. Coming here had been his own choice. Before leaving he'd informed Hacker of his decision. The assistant director hadn't been happy Booth had taken matters into his own hands, picking his own hideaway instead of accepting the FBI's protection. Only for safety purposes had Booth let him know where he was. Hacker had put local police in the town he was staying in on the look out. But Booth had concealed himself so deeply in the woods that he doubted anyone would be able to find him. It was just the way he wanted it. If Vick was to find him then he planned on facing him down alone.

The snowmobile cut through the snow as if it were butter. In town Booth stayed on a trail next to the main roads. The town was small. Houses were few and far between. One convenience store was all that provided any sort of grocery. In the warmer season he was sure the road the townspeople drove on was made up of stones, hidden now by the frozen white powder.

After a mile and a half he cut off the trail. His tracks from his previous journey were still apparent. At a slow pace he followed them, dodging trees and other hazards. The further he went, the more confident he grew. Gradually he began to pick up speed. Before this he'd never actually driven a snowmobile. But it reminded him a bit of a motorcycle, something he had experience, though limited, with. It didn't matter. He was sure he was able to handle any vehicle. After all, when it came down to it, he was a cop.

The wind whipped at his face, reminding him he hadn't worn any sort of hat or face mask. Later he was sure he'd be paying for it. At the moment though he was too busy losing himself in the fun. After days of stress it felt good to let go with such a simple activity. A tension released across his shoulders. It was the first time he didn't think about Brennan, and wonder how she was doing in his absence. Worrying she hated him.

He increased his speed to an even faster pace. The cabin he was staying in wasn't too much further. Just as it was coming into view did disaster strike. Underneath the even snow was a slight plateau. Really it was no more than a few feet off the ground. But having it unexpected threw Booth for a loop.

Suddenly he found himself air borne. He immediately let go of both the gas and brake. As they grew closer to the ground he prepared himself for a rough landing. There was absolutely no way he would be able to set it down smoothly.

Down onto the earth they crashed. The snowmobile bounced, sending Booth off balance. Sideways he tipped. Helplessly he could only watch as the powerful machine fell down on top of him, trapping him and instantly knocking him unconscious.

***

Brennan pulled up in front of Booth's apartment building. The late sun was setting across the sky as she hurried across the parking lot and used her key to let herself inside. Up a set of stairs she traveled until she reached his front door. Before inserting the key into the lock she froze, as if steeling herself. Having Booth disappear out of her life so abruptly was painful enough. Was she prepared for what laid inside?

She could compartmentalize, she reminded herself. Booth would be no exception. Though she knew she was lying she kept trying to tell herself that. Like ripping off a band aid she let herself inside before really thinking about it further.

Nothing looked all that changed. Except the apartment was emptier. The homey feeling he provided was gone. It was a shell of its former occupant. Brennan tried to push the feeling aside. She was there to work, not get emotional.

The first place she started her search was his bedroom. In there she again found nothing really looked all that altered. His bed was freshly made. A few books sat on his bedside table, one of them being one she'd written. She picked it up and peered inside. The first page dedicated the book to him. He was her best friend. Firmly she pressed her lips into a straight line. Booth had to have been lying. He had to have had a reason for acting the way he did.

She reflected back to the last night she saw him. Down onto the edge his bed she collapsed. Just then she began seeing little things she hadn't noticed at the time. Booth hadn't relaxed at all. At the time she'd just assumed he'd been upset with her. But then there'd been their conversation in the street. The slightest noise had caused him to pull her close to his body. The look of caution had appeared in his eyes. He'd been trying to protect her, she realized.

Something was most definitely wrong. Back into action she sprung. She searched his closet to find most of his long sleeved and winter clothes gone. A box advertising boots sat empty. Brennan wrinkled her nose. It was near sixty degrees out. Obviously then he'd gone somewhere cold. Somewhere far.

Her search of every other room turned up much of the same evidence. Either nothing, or things relating to cold weather. In his living room she booted up his computer only to find it password protected. All guesses she tried turned out to be wrong. Before giving up she typed in one last word. _Bones._

Sure enough the computer beeped to life. Brennan proceeded to search his computer's files for any other indication of his whereabouts. Sadly she turned up empty handed. Just as she was about to close the lid on the lap top it occurred to her to open up his internet browser. It was a last chance hope.

Clicking on a few icons, she brought up his browser history. There were a few sites relating to their last case. Her eyes were immediately drawn to one address. A mapping website. Heart racing, she clicked it open.

Instantly a map appeared before her. A map leading from an airport in a city in a Alaska to a remote location.

Booth was in Alaska. And that was exactly where Brennan was going to go.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're calmed with disappointment

While I'm drowning in the next room

The last contagious victim of this plague between us

I'm sick with apprehension

I'm crippled from exhaustion

And I dread the moment when you finally come to kill me"

- "Stockholm Syndrome" blink 182

* * *

Booth was conscious of the pain before much else. Before his eyes even opened.

His head felt like someone was nailing it with a jack hammer. His body was stiff; sore. Down to the bone he was chilled, coming upon the gradual realization he was wearing pants but no sort of shirt. There was a stinging pain in both his right ankle and his chest. He was sure something was broken. He just couldn't pin point what. Or where. His back was teeming with pain. And for some reason his arms were restrained with something metallic uncomfortably behind him while he was sitting up. Why on earth was he sitting up?

A moan escaped his lips as he struggled to force his eyes open. All around him the world was unclear, and it was a moment before his vision was able to focus. He was aware he was sitting on the floor leaning back against something warm. Hot, even. His nose detected the awful smell of burning flesh. As he became more alert he realized his skin was burning. Pain shot up and down his body, sharp like a knife. He jerked his body away so hard that he nearly dislocated his shoulder. Or so it felt like. It was then he became aware his wrists were bound behind his back with hand cuffs. Most likely his own.

Footsteps vibrated the wooden floor under him. To his horror Vick came into the room, smirking as though he'd been told a humorous joke. "Good morning," he said in a sing song voice. "You picked out a great place here. Nice. Secluded. I bet you thought being isolated from town would keep me from finding you." He knelt down before him. Vick slapped him. "Stupid boy. But then again maybe you wanted to be found. Maybe you thought if I killed you I'd stay away from them. That was your fear, right? That I'd kill your partner. And your precious son."

How'd he know? Booth tried to respond but came to find his mouth had thick silver duct tape over it.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone where you were. I could have. I could have trapped them all here one by one."

Booth wasn't listening. His memory was coming back to him in glimpses. The snowmobile accident. Crashing down onto the hard ground. Waking up to find someone lifting the damaged vehicle off of him before passing out once again.

"You were so easy to trap," Vick murmured, as if reading Booth's mind.

Booth exhaled hard through his nose. It'd been Vick who'd caused his accident!

"But right now, there are more important matters." Vick tugged Booth's wrists out from under the metal pole he was restrained to. Another flick of pain traveled through him as his shoulder fell onto something hot and burned. A radiator. The sick son of a bitch had chained him up to a radiator!

Something warm and wet was pushed down against his left wrist. "There's a reason," Vick hissed in his ear. "Why people commit suicide by slashing their wrists in hot water."

Booth grew rigid. He knew what was coming.

"So much more blood," Vick whispered.

Helplessly Booth began to struggle with all of his might. No. Vick wouldn't leave that mark on him. He wouldn't let him get away with it.

Vick slammed his fist into his jaw. "Hold still!" He screamed at him. "Hold still or else I will make this much more painful for you!"

If he made the slash on Booth's wrist it was nearly a death sentence. Booth wouldn't willingly let himself be the next victim. He pulled away, only to have Vick yank his wrist forward with an incredible bout of force. Another burn formed on his shoulder as he slammed straight into one of the heated coils.

Out of the corner of his eye Booth could see Vick had a straight blade instead of a traditional razor. He pushed it down to his wrist. There was a snapping sound as the skin resisted to the friction. "Stupid razor," he muttered, cutting again and again at Booth's wrist until blood began to bead up through the pale flesh. "Now was that so difficult?"

Booth shut his eyes, trying to mentally survey the damage. Warm blood was dripping down onto his hand. From what he could tell the cut wasn't deep enough to kill him. But it was a sign he knew of what was to come. Statistics weren't really his thing, but he knew the chances of his escaping Vick's prison alive were slight.

"One last business to attend to." Vick ripped the tape off of Booth's mouth with force. From his pocket he produced a few small white pills.

Booth felt cold dread run through his body.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

Booth kept his lips locked. For that he received another punch to the face.

"I said open it!"

His back slumped a bit. He kept his mouth closed, his eyes darkening with controlled rage.

"All right, fine." Vick stood. He sent a good hard kick into Booth's injured leg.

The pain was sharp and hot. Booth couldn't help but to open up his mouth in a gasping noise. Vick was speedy to jam the pills inside. He replaced the duct tape, then grabbed onto Booth's throat. "Swallow!"

The pressure on his throat affected his ability to breathe. Regretfully he had no choice. With a heavy heart he downed the pills. Then he dropped his head in defeat.

"Aww, don't worry. I have much planned for you. In the meantime, just sleep," Vick cooed. "It'll all be over soon."

Booth stared coldly as the man retreated from the room. He tried to shift his body enough to take the strain off his back. The wall was a cooling comfort for his tender skin. But in order to lean against it he had to contort his body into a painful position. It was no use. He was stuck leaning forward, his chest over his stomach. Soon as the pills set in his head lifelessly fell forward, craning his neck. Just before he fully went under he wondered if he'd ever wake up again.


	6. Chapter 6

"I can feel you falling away

No longer the lost

No longer the same

And I can see you starting to break

I'll keep you alive If you show me the way"

- "Give Me A Sign" Breaking Benjamin

* * *

Brennan drove like a bat out of Hell off the main road winding through town and onto the beaten path through a dense forest. Her SUV took the bumps and turns with little problem. For hours straight she'd been traveling. The plane she'd taken into Alaska had barely touched down before she had a rental and was back on the road. Now every so often she slowed long enough to glance at the map she'd printed out. Then she'd speed up again.

It was the urgency tugging at her heart strings that pressed her foot down on the accelerator pedal. She supposed it was possible she was over reacting. There was no saying that she'd find that Booth was fine. But there was no saying she wouldn't, either.

She'd come to a realization that Booth had tried to hurt her. He'd done what he'd done for a purpose. He'd wanted her out of the way, out of his life. Why? The only answers she could come up with were ones she didn't like. Ones that meant his life was in possible jeopardy.

At the end of the path made by tire tracks she found a quaint cabin. Out front two snowmobiles were parked. One was fairly damaged. Brennan brought her vehicle to a stop. She immediately hopped out. Before approaching the cabin she took a closer inspection of the damaged snowmobile. Deep scratches marked the surface of the body. One of the skis was broken, with the rest of it bent in underneath the vehicle. Brennan thought she saw a faint trace of blood. But she couldn't be sure. The unknown frightened her just as much as the known.

Through the snow she crunched up to the cabin's entrance. She thought about knocking but then decided against it. Booth needed to be caught by surprise. She abandoned any and all caution as she opened the door. "Booth?" She called uncertainly. Silence answered her. She took a few more steps inside, shutting the door behind her. Next to her on a coat rack hung his jacket. She was definitely in the right place. As she was walking past it she noticed the front of it had several tears. A few spots of blood had soaked into the area by the collar. Blood on the snowmobile. Blood on his jacket. A pit hardened in her stomach. Worriedly she moved on.

Her footsteps were heavy as she moved about into the living room. It didn't take her long to find him. Stopping dead, she gasped at the sight. Behind his back his wrists were restrained. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. Forward he was stooped with his eyes shut and head hanging unresponsively. Other than the movement of his shallow breathing he was still.

Brennan rushed to him. Besides him she fell. "Booth?" Carefully she tilted his body back. Her fingers brushed across burns on his back and shoulders. Gently she peeled the tape away from his mouth. "Booth?" She tried again.

She looked him over thoroughly. His cut wrist had scabbed, though some blood still seemed to ooze from the wound with motion. His face and jaw were bruised and swollen. His ankle jutted out in front of him in an odd angle. What had been done to him? And by who? "Booth, come on," she leaned forward to speak into his ear. "Open your eyes. Tell me what happened to you. Who did this?"

As if on cue he seemed to regain a bit of consciousness. But with a single glance it was easy to tell he wasn't himself. The pills Vick had forced into his body were causing hallucinations. Booth didn't see Brennan at all. He saw the enemy. He saw himself trapped in the desert, a prisoner of war. Behind her wasn't a cabin, but an orange flickering sky burning black with smoke. He muttered something incomprehensible.

"Booth?"

He shuddered violently, piercing her heart with a sense of panic. Up he looked at her with so much rage in his eyes that she felt herself taking a step backwards. "Booth, it's me," she realized he didn't recognize her. "It's Bones."

There was a flicker of recognition. It eased his expression, but only a little. Bones meant something to him. But he was unsure of what. In his reverie a bomb dropped to the ground behind him. He strained his body forward, inflicting more damage from his metal handcuffs onto his already bruised wrists. Harsh breaths shook his shoulders.

"Booth!" She moved forward again. "You know me. It's Bones!" She forced him to look at her. "It's me."

There was a cackling sound that split through the air from the kitchen. Brennan could suddenly smell smoke. Reluctantly she left Booth behind to go investigate. She tip toed into the doorway and peeked around the corner. There a man was standing by the kitchen's back door. In one hand he had a gas can. The other, a lighter. Fire was already spreading across the linoleum floor. The curtains were beginning to catch. Bright orange and yellow flames licked at the windows.

"Hey!" Brennan yelled to him.

Vick just smirked in response. He let himself out the back door just as the walls were beginning to catch. Porous smoke began to drift into the living room.

Brennan turned back to Booth. She had to get them out of there before they burned to death. And there was no way she as leaving without him. Again she took up her place at his side.

He'd turned comatose once again. However before she could think about trying to revive him, she had to free him. She leaned over him and peered at the FBI issued hand cuffs. They were tight around his wrists. There wasn't any way she could maneuver his hand enough to slip it through.

"Booth!" She braced his head in her palm. Gently she tapped his cheek. "Booth, come on! Help me!"

His eyes slit. From what she could tell they were staring straight upward. His chest heaved as he took in deep breaths.

"Come on, Booth," she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his.

She felt him lean more into her touch. Upon opening her eyes she found him gazing right back into hers. He was still out of it. Far gone. But for the moment she had enough of his focus to work on saving their lives.

"We have to get out of here. Is there any way to remove your handcuffs without the keys?" She wondered anxiously.

Booth said nothing, simply pulling on the restraints instead. He winced from both pain and effort.

"Don't." She could see he didn't have an answer for her. In desperation she began searching the cabin for anything to break Booth out of the cuffs. In a utility closet she happened to come across a heavy hammer. It had a short shaft, but a thick hunk of metal attached at the end. She reasoned It would be enough to break the chain holding the cuffs together.

Brennan coughed as she headed back for Booth. The fire was advancing. Smoke was filling up the room. She could barely see from the substance stinging her eyes as she crawled down onto the floor. At the radiator she separated his wrists apart, pulling the chain taut. "Booth," she croaked. "Stay still. You can't move."

She could only hope he understood. Above her head she held the mallet. As she brought it down she instinctively turned her head away from any flying debris. She heard the high pitched sound of metal colliding with metal. Looking back, she saw her idea had worked. The links in the chain had broken apart. Booth's hands were free.

Not taking a moment to hesitate she moved to the front of him. Booth was attempting to push himself up to his feet, but with his bad ankle he was finding it difficult. Brennan at last had to pull his arm over her shoulders. Together they managed to lift him. Without letting go she led him straight to the front door. He limped along, struggling to keep pace. No more than a few steps outside into the cold snow and she could feel his muscles giving out. Wanting to collapse. In his throat he made a noise that resembled a groan.

"Just a few more steps," she tugged his body. He walked off balance, at times sliding into her and others nearly slipping from her grasp. She got him to the passenger side door of the SUV. Even with her help he could barely slide himself inside. His frame was shaking horribly from the cold. Brennan frowned, not taking her eyes off of him while belting him in.

As she rounded the other side something exploded near her in the snow. She let out a startled cry while she hopped up out of the way. It was then out of the corner of her eye she could see Vick staring her down with a revolver thrust forward in his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

"I now own this fatal role that lives

Imagine here's a better feel

Told to dissolve, or choose to fade

Or stay here you'll live"

- "Letter From A Thief" Chevelle

* * *

Brennan was completely frozen. She couldn't make her brain communicate to her legs to move. Who was this man? Why was he so dedicated to taking her partner's life? Most importantly, what could she do about it? She wasn't armed. Booth's gun was most likely lost back in the blazing rubble.

She took a chance and threw herself back towards the side of the vehicle. Another bullet just missed striking her. Frightened yet determined, she lifted herself onto her feet in the crouching position. Cautiously she peeked up over the hood.

Vick was briskly approaching her. She'd ducked back down behind the SUV. Just as she was plotting her next move she heard the explosion of another bullet being discharged. Something entered her shoulder, slamming her onto her back in the hard snow. Instantly she knew she'd been shot. Blood was already seeping into her shirt.

Using quite a bit of strength she sat herself back up. Vick was only a short distance from her. Again he pointed the gun at her. This time he aimed straight at her head. Brennan made a shrieking sound. She tried to push herself up, but with only one good working arm she found herself nearly rendered helpless.

Vick fired. Brennan shut her eyes tightly. She waited for the stinging pain; for the world to go black. Nothing happened. Fearfully she opened her eyes. In front of her she found she was staring at the smooth exterior of one of the SUV's doors. Booth had thrown it open to protect her.

He ambled back down out of the cab. He had a hard time keeping his balance, but pulled her arms around his neck. She locked her fingers together as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up from the snow. Carefully they guided one another back inside. Booth pushed Brennan ahead of him. Then he got in, shutting the door behind him.

Brennan started the SUV. She looked back in the rearview mirror to find Vick nowhere in sight. She'd been in the field enough with Booth to know what sort of danger that could lead to. Throwing the shift into drive, she floored the gas pedal. Snow spit out from the tires behind them. Sideways they fish tailed until the vehicle righted itself. At a break neck speed they took off through the woods.

There was nothing else Brennan was allowing herself to think about until they were safe. She didn't even glance in her mirrors. When the thought came to her she looked over at Booth sitting awkwardly in the passenger seat. His head was in his hands. "Booth?"

A few moments passed before he responded. He looked up, and she could tell immediately from his eyes that he was hallucinating all over again. His breaths were choppy with an uneven amount of time between his inhales and exhales. Sporadically he trembled. Brennan knew Booth had been captured and tortured during his time in the Army. He'd shared few of those horrors with her. What he was going through she couldn't imagine. It made her hate Vick all the more for forcing him to relive those memories.

"Booth, it's okay." She didn't know if her words penetrated his dream. But it didn't stop her from trying. "You're okay." But she knew he wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Suddenly glass broke behind them. A bullet soared through the car and cracked the windshield as it exited. Brennan unintentionally swerved, nearly toppling them. She looked back to find Vick chasing them on the only working snowmobile. She had to hand it to him, she didn't know too many people who could steer a snowmobile with one hand and fire a gun with the other at the same time. Well, she supposed Booth probably could if need be.

Another bullet bounced somewhere off of the vehicle's side. Was Vick aiming for their tires? Brennan had no idea what to do, and was losing her logical resolve. Her shoulder was aching with intense pain. She was panicking. "Booth. Help me!"

Booth was lost so deep that this time he didn't even acknowledge her.

Back and forth Brennan began swerving, for lack of a better idea. Hopefully Vick would have a difficult time following them. Keeping up with them. Her idea worked, but back fired at the same time. She could hear another muffled pop. A tire blew out. The steering wheel became loose in her hands. The snow gave way to ice. Abruptly the world turned upside as the SUV flipped and rolled onto its roof. It skidded along in the snow, eventually coming to a stop.

Brennan was knocked unconscious. She woke in a daze sometime later. Between the blood loss from her bullet wound and the repeated onslaught to her head, she was weak. Only could she just barely undo her seat belt and free herself. Using her elbow she managed to break the already cracked driver's side window. Feebly she fell out into the snow. Gasping, she laid on her back and looked up at the snow covered pine trees. The pain was blinding. But they weren't out of trouble yet. Vick was still on the loose.

Brennan sat up. She looked and listened for the snowmobile. Except for the usual various outdoor sounds all was still. No. This wasn't right. Once again she was able to get herself onto her feet. She stumbled vigilantly back the way she'd driven. It wasn't too long before she came upon Vick.

The same trap that he'd set up to capture Booth had worked against him. His snowmobile was stuck, still running in a snow drift. The man himself had flown off over its handle bars. He'd gone head first straight into a tree. Brennan approached him just close enough to be sure he was dead. And he was indeed. His neck had snapped upon impact.

Back towards the damaged automobile she walked numbly. Her mind urged her that she was forgetting something. Someone. Booth! As fast as she could she ran back to him. Luckily (or unluckily) his window had already broken. Inside Booth was completely unconscious. Unmoving. Blood was leaking down the side of his face from a wound on his temple.

Brennan crawled inside. She tugged on him repeatedly with all the strength she had left. Mentally she cursed him for not wearing a seat belt. Just as she felt ready to pass out she got him completely out into the snow. Over him she knelt, nervously checking his pulse. Without a seat belt on she had no idea how hard he'd hit his head. Death wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

His faint pulse beat beneath her fingertips. She nearly collapsed in relief. Finding her cell phone, she managed to play with it enough to get reception. She dialed for paramedics, then sunk down on top of Booth. Her eyes closed as she drifted off, her heart against his.


	8. Chapter 8

"All of this to explain to you why I had to separate myself away from yesterday's life

Please remember this isn't how I hoped it would be

But I had to protect you from me

That's why I slipped out the back before you knew I was there

I know you felt unprepared

But every single time I was around I just bring you down

And I could tell that it was time to be scared"

- "Slip Out The Back" Fort Minor

* * *

Booth's breathing hitched.

Brennan looked up worriedly from the computer screen of the laptop sitting in the chair in front of her. She watched carefully as he grimaced before his expression eased. Then he was once again soundless, his breathing keeping a soft rhythm.

For a week now they'd been in the hospital. Brennan didn't know how long she and Booth had been out in the woods. She only knew she woke up sometime later underneath heated blankets in a safe hospital room somewhere in Alaska. Her shoulder wound had been repaired, though it still throbbed something terrible. From the roll over crash she'd received a concussion. But her injuries were pale in comparison to Booth.

He hadn't yet to truly wake up since they'd been brought in. Sure, he'd been in and out of consciousness. But he hadn't returned to being himself. The drugs had left an effect in his system. That combined with his own head injury he suffered in the crash had left him in a delusional state. Booth didn't know who he was. He didn't know who _anyone _was, or why he was in so much pain. Any attempts at helping him were resisted with zest. Frustratingly the doctors were forced to wait until he slipped back into a coma to be able to do anything for him.

Brennan could have flown back to D.C. days ago. She'd chosen instead to stay with him. And so while she had her own room, she spent most of her days keeping vigil over him in his.

Booth inhaled roughly and tilted his head a bit. Brennan sprang to her feet. Was this it? Was Booth coming back home to her? She went to his side and squeezed his hand. "I'm here," she whispered.

It turned out to be anticlimactic. To her disappointment he settled. Her hopes were dashed. "You can do this," she spoke in a soft voice to him once again. "Come on."

"Dr. Brennan?"

A man dressed finely in a suit stood by the door waiting for her. She knew with one glance he was another FBI agent. And so she looked at him but chose to say nothing.

"May I have a word with you?"

It hadn't taken long after Brennan had woken for the FBI and local police to interview her repeatedly about what had happened back at the cabin. She'd told all of them everything she knew over and over again. And in return she'd at last learned of Booth's involvement, and Vick's relentless pursuit.

Wordlessly she retreated out into the hall with the man. He showed her his credentials, not that she needed to see them. "Yes, Agent Thomas?" She asked wearily.

"I apologize. I know you've been through a lot, and you must be tired of repeating your story for the umpteenth time. But I need to know, are you absolutely certain of the location Vick crashed his snowmobile in the woods?"

Brennan was taken aback. "Yes. He hit a tree approximately ten yards away from where Booth and I were found."

Agent Thomas nodded thoughtfully.

"Why?" She was afraid to ask.

"We've found the snowmobile. But there was no sign of Vick's body."

"He was there," she gasped.

"Perhaps you were disoriented from your own accident?"

"No! I saw him lying there. His neck was broken." She shook her head. This couldn't be. Could Vick still be out there? Was Booth's life still in danger?

Agent Thomas seemed to at last notice her troubled expression. "Hey, no. There was too much blood soaked into the snow for him to still be alive. Neither of you have anything to worry about. Animals could have scavenged the body."

It was unlikely, Brennan knew. Whole bodies weren't usually moved by woodland creatures. They were eaten on site. But she felt too worn out to argue with him. She decided to take his attempt to ease her mind and return to Booth with it. Politely she excused herself.

She walked in to find Booth awake. His head had drifted to one side, resting on his shoulder as he panted in a rapid procession. Sweat had gathered on his brow. The color in his features was ghastly.

Their eyes connected instantly. Brennan didn't need to ask what was wrong. She ran to his side and punched the button on his IV monitor that distributed pain killers. Within minutes his symptoms began to ease. His eyes half closed with relief.

Just then the full weight of everything they'd been through together sank down upon her. Brennan couldn't help herself. Tears filled her eyes. She embraced him tightly, hiding her face in the coarse fabric of his hospital gown. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry.

Booth said her name. He stroked her hair before hugging her back. "I'm all right."

"Why?"

"Why am I all right?" He chuckled.

She pulled away, but stayed close at his side. "Why did you do this? Why did try to take him on your own?"

"Vick?" He tried to catch up to her speed. "I had to. He was after me."

"You almost died, Booth. If I hadn't of come after you-"

"Hacker knew where I was." His rebuttal sounded weak even to him. They both knew by the time Hacker would have realized something was wrong and sent someone for him, Booth would have likely already been murdered. "Look, I've been working Vick's case for a long time. He kills law enforcement officers. He murders their family and friends. The FBI got intelligence he was coming after me. I wasn't willing to risk anyone's life by staying around. So I went into hiding. I led him away. I did what I had to."

"You should have told me yourself," she sniffed. "You shouldn't have just me a note. Especially," her voice lowered. "A note like that."

Right then and there he could have admitted everything. Booth could have come forward, confirming his feelings and declaring the note to be genuine. But before he spoke he thought back over everything they'd been through together over the past week or so. He looked straight into her eyes and felt himself chickening out. This wasn't the right time. The right place. "I had to, Bones. I wrote what I did," he swallowed. "Because I couldn't have you following me."

"Your plan was flawed."

"I can see that now."

She smiled slightly. "I guess it's a good thing it was."

His gaze drifted down at his wrist which Vick had slit. It was bandaged now; protected. Underneath it could he feel the skin, having stitched itself together naturally, stretching taut when he moved his arm. A sharp needle-like pain rocketed through his muscles.

"Hey," Brennan said softly, noticing the change in his demeanor. "You survived."

"Yeah," he breathed. "I survived."

The end


End file.
